


The Lonely Sea

by pookiestheone



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1954.  The last of WWII rationing has just ended.  Elizabeth has been Queen for only two years.  And Thomas Barrow's life has changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thomas made his way down the steps to the seaside promenade. When he retired four years earlier he had surprised everyone by not staying near Downton, but instead moving to a town on the Irish Sea. He had considerable savings and a decent pension from Lord Grantham so for once he could choose what he wanted to do with little worry about the outcome.

\---

It wasn't that his life at Downton had been all that bad in the end. When Carson finally retired after a couple of years, he came into his own as butler. As memories mellowed and people died and staff moved on, the old Thomas - the deceitful, spiteful, out for himself Thomas - faded away. There were times a part of him regretted what he had become, knowing his younger self would have mocked him mercilessly, but it had been one of his few choices and it had provided him with security he doubted he would have found elsewhere. He had come to terms with the fact that he had settled for a lonely life and over time he came to believe he didn't want anything else.

In the end though there was nothing to keep him there. He went back each year to visit Daisy and Andy on the farm, usually at Christmas because they insisted, but they were all that he missed. Other than George Crawley of course, but George, the current Lord Grantham, spent less time at Downton as the years passed and left the successful running of the estate to an agent. Thomas knew he had been kept on as butler as staff dwindled and then got an early pension in 1950 only because of strength of his relationship with George. And George even helped furnish his flat with some pieces from Downton

There was no particular reason he had decided on this town. He had just been thinking about a place near the sea, not a city, but at the same time somewhere completely different from Downton, and he had read something in one of the papers about "forgotten gems" that mentioned Tardon-on-Sea. A visit the year before he retired was enough to tell him it wasn't quite a gem, but it would suit him just fine. He learned that as expected it was busier in the summer, the seafront guesthouses filled with holidaying families, although it was no Blackpool, while in the off-season it became like any other quiet seaside town.

Over the next year he had visited twice; the final time just two months before he retired. Luckily there were a few places for rent and he chose a spacious two room flat at the top of a large Victorian with only the unused servants' quarters above him. Because it stood on the slope of a hill he could easily see over the houses to the promenade and the sea beyond from its front window.

His new landlady was a friendly, rotund, red-haired woman who reminded him, for better or worse, of Mrs. Patmore. She also rented out rooms on the floor below to two lodgers, providing them with meals, which meant for a few extra quid Thomas didn't have to worry about where he was going to eat or even worse, about learning how to cook. Since money wasn't a concern, he paid two months' rent and a bonus to ensure the flat was painted before he moved in.

\---

The breeze off the water was cool but not unpleasant and Thomas had come prepared anyway. As he rounded the bend at the south end of the promenade some distance from the main section he saw that the both benches were unoccupied. It always surprised him that even at the height of summer few people came this far; they didn't know what they were missing. The benches faced south overlooking the sea and were sheltered; more than once he had drifted off as he sat there reading. He spread out his blanket then after he sat, draped it over his legs. _Pretty decent for October. I won't be able to do this for much longer this year though._

He set his book and the thermos of tea his landlady had given him on the bench beside him. At the beginning he had told her that he didn't mind making his own tea, but she wouldn't hear of it.

\---

"You will not, Mr. Barrow. Just tell me when you're going out and I'm often in the kitchen anyway. You would just get under my feet."

Their relationship was a strange one; a mixture of some formality and a great deal more familiarity. Shortly after he moved in they had taken to having tea once a week at the table in her kitchen. It was always Mr. Barrow and Mrs. Purdy, but they got along more like brother and sister.

"Will you be back for lunch?" she asked as she screwed the top on the thermos. "Or will I just be setting places for one the boys and myself?" She always called her two lodgers, Allan and Ted, "the boys" despite their being well over thirty.

"Not today, I'll get something along the High Street. I'll be here by dinner time, but I won't want anything. Lord Grantham is passing through on his way to London and he's asked me to meet him for afternoon tea. The usual tea and biscuits later in the evening will be just fine."

"To London? He's chosen a roundabout way to get there from Yorkshire, hasn't he?"

"What can I say, Mrs. Purdy, I'm a man who Lords go out of their way to see."

She laughed as she slid the thermos into the bag beside his blanket.

"Off with you and don't forget your scarf like you did yesterday. You may need it "

\---

Thomas shook his head as he poured his tea. _I do seem to be more forgetful at times. I still have all my wits about me though so I'm not going to start worrying just yet._ He glanced up as a gull swooped in and then away. He had stopped bringing food for them long ago, but he sometimes wondered if some of them remembered. _Now that's downright silly._

He took a sip of tea as he settled back to watch the sea. On days like this, with the sunlight dancing on the waves, he understood what people meant when they said it could be hypnotising. During storms, of course, it was something else entirely, but he never tired of watching it when he could. He had been there for some time, book in his lap, staring out to sea, lost in thought, and didn't notice when someone sat down beside him.

"I knew I'd find you here, Mr. Barrow."

The voice startled him and he jumped, splashing what was left of his now cold tea from the cup onto his lap, narrowly missing the book.

"Jesus!" he muttered as he looked over. It was Allan, one of Mrs. Purdy's "boys". He didn't know him all that well despite his living there a little over six months. Thomas preferred to keep to himself most of the time.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to mop up the tea.

"Stop that! It's already soaked into the blanket and you're not helping in the least."

"Sorry."

Thomas replaced the top of the thermos, putting it back into his bag.

"What are you doing here, Allan?" he groused. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Half day closing and the High Street's been dead all morning so I shut a bit early."

"Keep doing that and you won't be much of a success."

"It **is** October. Besides, I had an excellent summer I'll have you know," Allan offered testily.

Thomas looked at him. _I'm a bloody idiot. What real harm has he done?_

"Just ignore me, Allan. Crotchety old man and all that. You never did answer why you're here though. It's obviously not for my welcoming ways."

Allan perked up at the reprieve.

"Mrs. Purdy said I would find you here any good morning."

"You and Mrs. Purdy have been gossiping about me, have you. What else did you worm out of her?"

"Nothing. No, I mean we weren't gossiping. I was curious about you and you don't talk much so …" He faltered and looked down nervously at his hands.

"So you decided to come to the horse's mouth. Don't look so worried," Thomas laughed as he reassured him. "It's not a criminal offence to be curious. Why didn't you just ask?"

"As I said you don't talk much and to be honest you don't exactly come off as approachable."

Thomas knew that was true. Years of keeping people at arm's length was a habit that had been hard to break. He had managed somewhat when he became butler because he had wanted the staff to begin to trust and respect him. Still at the same time he knew his authority needed him to be

standoffish. After he retired he withdrew more than he intended.

Other than with Mrs. Purdy, this conversation with Allan was likely the longest he had had in four years. _Shit, that's depressing._

"So it would seem." He stood and folded his blanket into the bag as he contemplated his next words. "What do you suggest we do about that?"

"I'm inviting you to have lunch with me."

"Is it that time already? Thomas pulled his watch from his pocket. "Well, I have to be somewhere at three."

"I don't know about you, Mr. Barrow," Allan said as he stood, "but it doesn't take me three hours to eat lunch."

"No need to be cheeky."

"A statement of fact, Mr. Barrow. Just a statement of fact."

"And yet said with a smirk," Thomas chided as they slowly made their way toward to the High Street.

"So does this mean you're coming for lunch."

"I suppose it does." He paused. "Thank you."

As they walked neither said much which gave Thomas a chance to consider what had just happened. If he were honest he had noticed Allan looking at him a few times across the dining room table, as if trying to decide something. He dismissed it as meaningless since it came to nothing, but he now understood that perhaps he just wanted to try to become friends. Although why Allan had chosen him when there was someone like Ted, who was closer to his own age and much more sociable, eluded him.

Intentionally or not, his increased reclusiveness meant he was comfortable with his interactions with Mrs. Purdy, but not necessarily looking for anything else. Friends had always been few and far between anyway - he could count them on one hand; of those, Sarah O'Brien had turned against him and he had lost track of Jimmy long ago.

For his part, Allan was happy with the silence. Thomas - Mr. Barrow's name as Mrs. Purdy had informed him - intrigued him. He wasn't used to being ignored, yet that's exactly how it felt and it was disconcerting. Mrs. Purdy gave him some details, but in the end it wasn't all that much. He had come from Yorkshire where he had been butler for a Lord Grantham, he had a sister somewhere, and he hadn't married, but beyond that not even she knew - or maybe she didn't want to say. Allan was sure his accent wasn't purely Yorkshire, but that didn't help.

It went far beyond simple curiosity.

Allan had never been all that interested in men his own age. In his experience he had always been attracted to and more successful with older men, men twenty or more years his senior, no matter how short-lived the relationship. The two men of his own age had been disasters. During the war one almost got him court-martialled and sent to prison. The second, and the most recent, had caused his unplanned departure from London the previous year, urged on by the large sum of money his own parents had given him to be rid of the problem he was becoming.

Now in his early forties he still wanted to find someone who could make him happy and he was sure that person had to be older, but in choosing Tardon-on-Sea he had definitely limited his possibilities. He sensed - or maybe just hoped - that Thomas was one of those possibilities.

The problem - or at least one of the problems - was that there seemed no way to break through Thomas's indifference to see if there was anything more. He was too remote, too guarded.. Conversations, what there were of them, were little more than brief pleasantries around the dinner table. When asked if he wanted to play cards with Ted and him of an evening, he always politely refused, usually choosing instead to spend time in his rooms reading. Ted thought he was just "a snooty, old geezer", but Allan knew that wasn't the case, thanks once again to dear Mrs. Purdy.

When they arrived at the tea room, Allan held the door open for Thomas then followed him in. Today had been a gamble, but whether it was a winning one remained to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from a line in John Masefield's poem "Sea Fever." It's not as foreboding as it sounds, but "the lonely sea" fits well with how I view Thomas's life. The poem later offers "a quiet sleep and a sweet dream" and although Masefield surely meant this as a reference to death, for Thomas I intend a different meaning.
> 
> Head canon and dates  
> Thomas was born 1887. I always felt he was a few years older than Mary Crawley  
> Butler 1925 – aged 37  
> Retired 1950 –aged 62  
> Set in 1954 – aged 66
> 
> Allan was born 1912
> 
> And a word about age differences.  
> The same-sex relationships of everyday people of that era aren't well documented (Between the Acts: Lives of Homosexual Men 1885 - 1967 being the exception that comes to mind); however, there are other examples of better known couples.
> 
> Photographer Montague Glover was born 1898; his lover Ralph Hall in 1913. There was both an age and a class difference. Glover met Hall in 1930 when he was 17. They were together 50 years.
> 
> Novelist Christopher Isherwood was born 1904; his lover Don Bachardy in 1934. Isherwood met Bachardy in 1953 when he was 18. They were together until Isherwood’s death in 1986.
> 
> Novelist E. M. Forster was 51 when he met Bob Buckingham, a married policeman, who was 28. Their relationship lasted 40 years.
> 
> The circumstances of each of these relationships are different, and I'm not trying to analyse what attracts younger and older men, but it existed then as it does now and the age difference seems to have had little impact. I will admit I would be hesitant about the power balance when you have a 17 or 18 year old, but the fact that these relationships lasted as long as they did makes me less so.
> 
> When it comes to this story of course my intention is to show that Allan, who is no dewy-eyed youth, willingly sought out Thomas and not the other way around.


	2. Chapter 2

The room wasn't busy. There were a couple of late holidayers, the ones who came for the coastal walk and not the strand; Thomas could always tell from their shoes. He recognised a few local faces as well.

They found a quiet table near the window and had just settled in when the waitress came over.

"Mr. Kirkwood, nice to see you. And Mr.," she paused, not sure how to continue. Although Thomas came in for lunch a few times a month he had never spoken to her much beyond ordering. He pulled out his best smile, something he hadn't used in a while.

"Barrow. It's Barrow."

"And Mr. Barrow," she went on, relieved. "Lovely autumn day."

"Yes," Allan replied. "It is indeed."

"If you would like a few minutes to decide I can come back."

Thomas didn't need the time.

"I'm going to have the sandwich plate." He looked to Allan.

"Good choice. I'll have the same, Millie."

As she walked away Thomas realised he hadn't known her name before today. He was also starting to understand that, while he was glad he had decided to take Allan up on his offer, he had already faced some unforeseen and unpleasant truths, but it hadn't been all that bad. He found that he resented it and didn't want anyone to know more, made easier because eventually there was no one tell. When he came to Tardon it just seemed natural to continue keeping himself locked away. Maybe it was time open up, difficult as that might be after so long.

The chance hadn't presented itself before because no one had deliberately gone out of their way to show an interest, invitations to play cards aside, and besides, he had done nothing to encourage it. Allan apparently didn't need encouragement, which made Thomas curious. Something about Allan told him that he should try. What remained to be seen was how successful any of this would be.

Allan opened his serviette, setting it on his lap, and waited for a moment to see if Thomas was going to speak. When he didn't, he decided to make the first move.

"So Mr. Barrow, what would ..."

"Wait."

"Pardon?" Allan was too taken aback to say anything else. _Jesus! What did I do?_

"I think you should call me Thomas."

Allan wasn't sure if Thomas's half-smile was because he had asked him to use his first name or because he had managed to pull Allan up short with his "wait". As far as he was concerned though, it didn't matter; he was going to treat it as a small victory.

"So Thomas, what would you like to know about me? I mean we've been living under the same roof for six months, but this is the first time we're actually going to talk."

Allan thought Thomas was likely anticipating questions about himself, but this was better. He would share some things and Thomas would feel obligated to share as well. He hoped.

"I expect you don't know much more than my name."

Thomas just nodded. _So, not the direct approach then._ He knew full well what Allan's game was, but it was going to be played by Thomas's rules. _Just because I don't know you doesn't mean I don't know **about** you._

"Well, let's see. Your father is Peter and your mother is Adelaide. You have a brother named Aaron whom you don't particularly like and a sister Camelia whom you do. You were born in London and you were forty-two last February, the twelfth I think. You used to manage a Saville Row tailor. You were in the last war and were wounded in the leg. You own the building your shop is in. How am I doing so far?"

"Uh ... surprisingly well."

"I'm sure there's more but one last thing. You arrived in Tardon last year out of the blue, as if whisked away by the fairies and dropped here, with enough money to buy that building. I would suspect that you had committed some crime and were on the run from the police, but you're hardly hiding away. I imagine the real reason is just as interesting."

Thomas was tempted to reach over and close his slightly gaping mouth. _Hmm, thank you Allan, it seems if you get me going some of the old Thomas comes through._

"You see, you can learn a lot from just listening around the dinner table or from occasionally sitting by the fire and reading instead of going to your rooms while someone's playing cards." _But mostly by being Mrs. Purdy's confidant. The woman, bless her, does indeed love to gossip - with the right person._

Any further conversation was put off by the arrival of their tea and sandwiches. After Millie left, Thomas reached for the pot.

"Shall I pour?

"I think you better."

At that Thomas started to laugh and set the pot down.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be a show-off."

"Are you sure?"

"All right, maybe a little. But it's not wise to make assumptions about someone you don't know. And before you say anything, yes, that's my fault, not yours."

He picked up the pot again, holding it over Allan's cup without pouring.

"You put your milk in first don't you?"

"Ah yes, I ... And you knew that, obviously. Fine, point taken." With milk and tea added in the right order, he stirred in some sugar and reached for a sandwich. "So, was this a bad idea? You and I having lunch."

Thomas had already taken a bite of one of his and held off answering.

"I don't think so. I've enjoyed it so far, haven't you?"

Allan almost spit out the sip of tea he had taken.

"Don't worry it's your chance now, but turnabout's fair play first. What do you know about me?"

He listened as Allan went over the little that Mrs. Purdy had told him.

"So that's it then? I wouldn't want you to write my biography."

"As you said it's not my fault I don't know you so I don't think you should complain."

"True."

Thomas took another bite from his sandwich before he went on.

"All right. I was originally meant to be a clockmaker like my father, even apprenticed for a year, but circumstances prevented that so I ended up in service. Hall boy, footman, under butler, then butler. There was a break as a corpsman during the Great War where I got this."

He held up his hand which was gloved as always. He had become so used to wearing it that it was second nature to put it on in the morning. _I'm sure this has been a mystery he's wanted to solve._

"What circumstances?"

_I thought that would be the question._

"Ones that you might learn about later."

"I was right about Yorkshire?"

"For about forty years I was with the Crawley family of Downton Abbey. First with the old earl and then with his grandson, the current Lord Grantham, until I came here. But we weren't in Yorkshire all the time. The season was spent at the London house, at least while there was any season to speak of and any reason to go. I even went to America once."

"And your family?"

"My parents died long ago. There's only my sister Margaret now; she was widowed this year, lives just outside of Manchester. We haven't seen much of one another for years, but she's planning to visit next month."

"You never married?" Allan had left that detail out of what he had told Thomas that he knew.

"Few men in service, at least those in the house like footmen and butlers, ever married."

Thomas refilled his half-empty cup and took another sandwich.

"And what's your reason?"

"Reason?"

"Why you never married. I'm going to guess you had plenty of prospects, as they say, and none of the constraints of service. You're decent looking, have a good upbringing and are generally successful from what I can tell. And yet here you are living the solitary life, playing cards with Ted, gossiping with Mrs. Purdy, having lunch with me."

"I suppose it just wasn't for me." _Decent looking? I've had better compliments._

"Indeed."

Allan didn't know if that meant the reason was good enough or if Thomas had reached some conclusion. From his tone he suspected the latter, but just what that conclusion was he had no way of telling. As he finished his last sandwich he realised that he had gleaned some new things about Thomas's background, in particular his hand, but there was a lot still to learn. It was still early days and it paid to be patient; he couldn't expect to get everything in one short lunch. In a way they were even now - family, work, war - and maybe he knew a bit more when it came to detail

"More tea?" Thomas asked. "We seem to have finished this pot."

"Unless you want to leave."

"No. As a matter of fact I was eying those pastries."

He caught Millie's eye as she came from behind the counter.

"We'd like another pot, but just enough for two cups please. And maybe you can tempt us with something sweet."

Allan took this as a good sign. If lunch had been a disaster there was no way Thomas would have wanted to prolong it.

Millie returned with the tea and a selection of pastries; they each took one.

"Quite good," Thomas announced after his first taste. "It reminds me of one that our old cook used to make."

"Do you miss it? Downton I mean."

"Not really. I miss some of the people, but it changed; it wasn't the same. Which I suppose is a good thing. That era of being waited on hand and foot by people who are at your beck and call all hours of the day is all but gone, as it should be. Soon you'll only find it in history books and romantic novels."

"And yet you stayed."

Thomas took a last forkful of pastry before setting the rest to one side.

"When you have limited options, or believe you have, you keep with what you do best. It became comfortable, maybe too comfortable, but it also gave me a decent and, as it turned out, secure living."

"So you have no regrets then?"

Thomas shrugged.

"Do you not have regrets? But I think that's a discussion for another day." _And besides you've got a bit more out of me today than I intended._ Still it didn't really upset him. Something about Allen made it easy to talk about his life. Perhaps it was just because he had given him an opportunity that he hadn't had for years or perhaps there was something more. He took a final drink of tea.

"Let's settle the bill shall we."

He pulled out his watch as he stood.

"I want to go to the bookstore and the chemist before I meet Lord Grantham."

"This is my treat ..."

Allan was half way to his feet and stopped.

"Lord Grantham? Here?"

"Yes. Didn't I say before?"

"No. I think that's something I would have remembered."

Thomas didn't smile, but his eyes gave him away.

"Odd. Anyway, you see my old life is hanging on a bit but not in a bad way at all"

He stretched out his hand and Allan shook it.

"Thank you for lunch. Next time is on me."

Thomas was gone before Allan realised that apparently they were going to continue their talk and they were going to have lunch again.

_Well I'll be damned_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering that it has been 2 months since the last update I'm not sure if anyone will still be interested in this. It's been sitting in my drafts folder in bits and pieces, being added to occasionally, until it all seemed to come together in the last few days. The 4th and final chapter should be up either later today or tomorrow.

Thomas made the rounds of the chemist, where he picked up his medication and some toiletries, and then the bookstore. He spent his time browsing through the titles, considering a few including Tolkien's _Fellowship of the Ring_ which had recently come out, but he had read _The Hobbit_ and decided it wasn't to his taste. He settled instead on Fleming's _Live and Let Die_ and _Lucky Jim_ by a new author, Kingsley Amis. He was sure the Fleming wouldn't disappoint since he had enjoyed _Casino Royale_ and took a chance on the Amis as "something different" according to the shop owner.

He checked his watch as he left the bookstore and found he had only half an hour before he was to see George Crawley; he had spent more time in there than he realised. It would take him ten minutes to get to the hotel where they had arranged to meet so he decided to make his way there. He could find a comfortable chair in the lobby to wait.

The hotel was small but fairly impressive, far better than he had thought he would find among the sea of guesthouses and run-of-the-mill hotels when he first moved to Tardon. Built in the 1890's, it had been modernised just after the war in 1948. According to Mrs. Purdy, who knew several of the staff, it was "luxurious."

If the lobby and dining room, which were all he had ever seen, were any indication then her assessment likely wasn't wrong. But more importantly for today, they served an afternoon tea – a delicious one at that – early enough for his meeting with George. Given how much he had eaten at lunch he wasn't sure he would be able to do it justice, but he never turned down a cup of tea and besides, neither food nor drink were the important thing.

As he sat waiting he considered what has happened earlier with Allan. What had started out as a typical day had become more interesting than he had expected, even before seeing George. He had enjoyed Allan's company, but he had already come to the realisation that it wasn't the company, but rather the person. And he now suspected that Allan wasn't really interested in him as a just friend; that those looks across the dinner table meant something other than curiosity.

It had been a long time and he had got it wrong more than once, but he believed that this time he was on the right track. Otherwise he still felt that Allan's attempt at friendship really made little sense. Now it was a matter of finding out whether or not he was right without putting himself at too much risk. He had just come up with an idea when he saw George walk through the entrance.

As he strode toward him, Thomas was struck as always by his resemblance to his father. He even seemed to share some of his disposition, although when he was angry Thomas could hear echoes of his mother - and her stubbornness. Other than that though, he was definitely his own person; something his mother was often not too pleased with.

As Thomas got to his feet he saw that George was followed closely by a tall, dark-haired man, about the same age. _He didn't mention there would be anyone else when he called._

"Thomas!" George's voice almost boomed in the empty lobby as he grabbed his hand. "It's been too long, far too long."

"M'Lord." Thomas by habit returned to his servant ways. Never "George" in public.

"Thomas, you're no longer my butler. You don't hear me calling you "Barrow", do you. I've told you that if you can't call me George, then no one should be allowed to."

"George, then."

"That's better. Been waiting a while?"

"Not really."

"Good. You used to have to stand around waiting all the time. Wouldn't want that to happen now." He noticed Thomas's quick look over his shoulder at the man who stood a few paces behind him.

"Sorry, I should introduce you. Dave, this is Thomas Barrow. Thomas, Dave Evans."

"Mr. Barrow. Very nice to meet you at last. Would you believe me when I say that I've heard a lot about you." Thomas noticed that his accent was Welsh.

"Mr. Evans." Thomas, a bit taken aback, still smiled as he shook his hand. _So I finally get to put a face to the name._ "I'm fortunate then that George only knows the good things."

"Yes," George laughed. "Whereas you, Thomas, know all my secrets."

Thomas merely nodded. _Truer words were never spoken._

"Shall we have tea, then?" George asked.

As they walked toward the dining room, Thomas wondered why George hadn't mentioned that he was coming. Once they were seated, he started to dig, feigning ignorance.

"So, Mr. Evans, have you known George long?"

"Please call me Dave. Actually we met during the war; we were in the same squadron. So that's over ten years now. We lost contact after it ended though, but we bumped into each other a little over a year ago in London. We've had a good time since then, haven't we George?"

George smiled as he looked up from his menu.

"Definitely. We holidayed in France in July and he convinced me to go skiing in Switzerland last winter. Most terrifying week of my life. Although to be honest I had been working much too hard and Dave was a breath of fresh air. Just what I needed."

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm glad you two found each other again."

And Thomas did see. That George real interests lay with men had been his closely held secret for several years. There had been women, even a fiancée, but they never lasted. The first Thomas knew about a man was when George sought him out one night in his pantry just as the war was ending. It was a few days after his grandfather had died and he was home on leave.

\---

"Are you busy?"

Thomas looked up from his ledger and set his glasses to one side as he stood. These late night visits were few, but not unusual; most of the time it was just to talk, but sometimes it was more than that. George got along well with his step-father, but he often turned to Thomas for advice, particularly when it was something he didn't feel comfortable discussing with the family.

"How can I help you, M'Lord?'

"Please sit." George pulled up a chair opposite him. His forehead wrinkled as he struggled with deciding what to say. "May I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"It's personal, very personal?"

"If you're comfortable sharing it then you can be assured it goes no further."

"I'll start by saying that I know, have known for a while really, a few things about you that you don't think I do."

Thomas sat back in his chair.

"Should I be concerned?"

"No, of course not. It's all water under the bridge, but it means I can talk to you about something that I can't with anyone else."

"I'll do whatever I can to help, if that's what you want."

George looked down at his tightly clenched hands and then back up.

"One of the things I know is that you enjoy the company of men."

Thomas sat silently for a few seconds.

"Indeed." _Of course you do. Gossip's still gossip whether it's upstairs or down._ "An interesting, if somewhat old-fashioned way of putting it, M'Lord." Thomas shrugged slightly. "I won't deny it, obviously." _Although it's been a long time since I've enjoyed it._

Thomas could almost see the relief cross George's face as he relaxed, but he still didn't continue.

"If I may make a somewhat easy guess, M'Lord?"

George nodded.

"You've met someone, or rather you've met a man."

"Yes. He's in my squadron"

"Would this be the first one?"

"No, not really. Do you remember that assistant gardener Joshua from a few years ago?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. He was only here one summer, wasn't he? The one I caught you swimming with in the pond at night?" _A gardener. Really?_ "But you were just a boy then."

"I was sixteen. Does that really matter?"

Thomas thought back to when he was that age.

"No, I suppose not. So clearly you're not here because you don't know what's happening to you."

"No."

"You want someone to share this with, to talk to for perhaps a bit of advice and understanding. Someone who won't bring the wrath of God and the church - or worse yet the police - down on you."

"Exactly. And I know you're that person. Even if you weren't, uh, weren't …"

"Of a certain temperament, shall we say?" Thomas asked.

"Ha!" George almost snorted. "That's a good one. But even if you weren't."

Given his own luck with men Thomas wondered if he was in fact the right person for this, but he had been chosen anyway.

"So, would you like to start?"

\---

Thomas glanced across the table at George. That night he hadn't got to bed until late. much too late, but he hadn't regretted it. Nor any of the nights that followed until he retired. It also signalled a change in their relationship, one that was apparent only to themselves. It shifted to a much more personal one, at least in private; one that over time grew into an unexpected friendship. It was something that at first took getting used to on his part, but surprisingly George didn't seem to think it strange.

"Shall we order?" George asked when the waitress approached.

"I'll only have tea and a small cheese plate," Thomas replied. "I had a larger lunch than I had intended."

"Well, we haven't eaten since our breakfast at Downton," Dave said as he smiled at George, "so we'll probably embarrass you."

After the waitress had gone, Thomas turned to Dave.

"George took you to Downton. You hadn't been before?"

"No, he's kept promising me a tour of the place, but this has been the first chance. To say it's impressive would be an understatement. And I didn't realise there was so much land."

"It's nothing like it used to be though, the house I mean, is it Thomas?" George observed. "Like it was before I was born."

"Not really. Dinner for twenty or thirty people wasn't unusual, garden fetes, hunting parties. Christmas with that enormous tree in the main hallway - you'll remember that though, George. It's a bit hard to describe to someone who hasn't seen it. Of course it was also an officers recuperation hospital during the first war. Entirely different."

"You were in charge then, weren't you?" George asked.

"Not in charge. That was your grandmother, Lady Cora. I ran it though."

"You should write a book," Dave suggested.

"Perhaps." _Oh, I don't think so._

"You'll have to excuse me," Dave said as he stood. "That drive from Downton was a long one."

"Back into the lobby to the left," Thomas nodded toward the door then turned to George as he walked away. "You like to surprise, don't you. Not a mention of him before tonight. Are you sure? After the way things ended the first time."

"To be honest, I was a bit concerned about what you might think. But what happened wasn't just his fault and we've both changed. When I first saw him again it was like the final piece of a puzzle fitting into place. And the last year has been the happiest that I can remember."

"And Lady Mary? She's still going to keep after you for an heir."

"I know," George sighed. "She'll just have to learn to accept the disappointment. I just can't live my life to please her. Would my being unhappy make her happy?"

Any further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their meal, followed almost immediately by Dave's return. The three of them spent the rest of the time talking about topics ranging from London, to George's and Dave's work, to an upcoming trip they planned to Italy, to how Thomas was enjoying living in Tardon. When they finished, it was Dave who paid, not George.

"No, I insist. It's not much but George has treated me for the last two days and it's my turn to do something."

When they got to the lobby and looked out it was raining.

"I'll get the car," Dave volunteered as he pulled his jacket over his head. "Give me the keys, George. Only be a minute and we should give Mr. Barrow a ride."

"Of course we will," George called after him as he hurried out the door.

"Would you like to come to London for a few days next month?" George asked as they waited. "It would give me a chance to make up for not seeing you in such a long time and then springing all this on you today."

"You don't have to make up for anything, George, but I would enjoy the visit. My sister's coming for a few days starting the eighth, but otherwise any time."

"I'll book you a room at the hotel just down the road from us."

"Us? You mean you're living together."

"Yes. As far as most people are concerned we just share a house. It's the same place I bought after we sold Grantham House. Of course, you've never seen it have you. Late Victorian, but fully modern - it cost me enough to make sure it was. Come to think of it you can stay there too, never mind the hotel. There are three spare bedrooms."

"Is that appropriate? I mean my being there. What would Lady Mary think?"

"Lady Mary has no say in it. I'll make some plans for the three of us. How long since you were last in London?"

"When you sold Grantham House. 1947? I went to oversee the packing and removal."

"It's settled then. I'll let you know when."

"Are you sure you should be doing all this George. I'm just your former butler."

"Thomas," George laughed as he casually draped his arm across his shoulders, "to others you may have been the butler, but you know damn well you've always been more than that to me."  



	4. Chapter 4

By the time they reached Mrs. Purdy's the rain had all but ended. When they pulled up in front George jumped out to open the back door for Thomas.

"It was good seeing you again, George. I always enjoy hearing from you, but it's not quite the same, is it?"

"And you Thomas. I'll call with the details about London later this week."

He got back in the car and rolled down the window.

"Take care."

Thomas watched as the car drove off then turned toward the steps. He stopped to wait when he saw Allan walking along the pavement toward him.

"Was that a Rolls?"

"I don't know for sure. I've never paid much attention to cars."

"And I guess that was Lord Grantham and his chauffeur."

"You're only partially right."

They started up the steps together.

"You had a good time?" Allan asked as he held open the door.

"Very good as a matter of fact."

Before Allan could try to get anything else out of him, Mrs. Purdy appeared at the kitchen doorway at the end of the hallway.

"Dinner in half an hour. Are you sure you won't have anything, Mr. Barrow. I always make plenty."

"No thank you, Mrs. Purdy. I'm just going to go up and do some reading. Tea and some of your delicious biscuits later of course. Wouldn't miss those. You spoil us you know."

"Such blather!" She flapped her apron at him. "Away with you, you'll make be blush," she scolded before turning back to the kitchen.

"You certainly are in a good mood," Allan remarked as they reached the landing beside his room. "I don't remember you ever joking with her like that before."

"It's been one of those days, Allan. One of those rare, unusual but enjoyable days."

"I hope I was one of the reasons for the enjoyable part."

"In fact you were. So why not drop by after dinner. I have a nice whiskey you might enjoy."

"Come to your flat?"

"Yes."

"Ted's going out so there's no cards tonight."

"So if there had been a game of cards then my invitation would take second place."

"What? No, that's not … That didn't come out right at all."

Thomas laughed as he started up the stairs to his floor

"You really do make this too easy. Shall we say seven o'clock."

"After teasing Mrs. Purdy like that I should have bloody known," Allan muttered as he opened the door to his room.

Thomas was still smiling as he took off his jacket and hung it in the wardrobe in his bedroom; that was followed by his waistcoat and tie. Even though it was October, the flat was pleasantly warm despite the unlit gas fire that stood in the old hearth in the living area. He unpacked his books and set them on the table beside his armchair in what had become the reading end of the room at the front bay window.

Everything else was stored away and the whiskey and glasses set out before he sat down to think about what he had learned from his time with George and Dave. It was a fair amount to take in. And while he still had his reservations about Dave given how heartbroken George had been after their breakup the first time, he knew he was going to trust George on this. Besides his trip to London would provide a better opportunity to see for himself. He thought perhaps that was one of the reasons George had asked him, if in some way he was looking for his blessing.

Settling back in his chair, he opened one of his new books. _If that's so, it's not that surprising. Who in the family could he turn to? But I'm still flattered._

\---

The book lay open on his lap at the second page when a knock at the door woke him.

"What the hell?" It took him a second or so to remember that he was expecting Allan. A glance at the mantle clock as he passed told him he was right on time.

"You did say seven, right," Allan asked, eyeing his unusually less than neat appearance.

"Yes." Thomas brushed at his hair with one hand and tucked his shirt further into his waistband with the other. "I must have dozed off. Come in. Have a seat on the sofa while I pour us a drink."

While he waited, Allan looked around the room. He recognised that most of the furniture pieces were older, well made, expensive and wondered how Thomas could have afforded them. His father's extensive fortune had been made in the manufacture of high-end furniture and, although he had no real interest in the family business, he had learned how to recognise quality. _Another puzzle to be solved._

Thomas handed him a drink and pulled up a chair across from him. He raised his glass.

"To the end of an eventful day."

"And to more in the future," Allan replied before taking a sip. "You were right, this is very nice."

"One of the perks of being a butler - you learn to appreciate good wine and whiskey. Among other things of course."

"I take it then that your meeting with Lord Grantham went well."

"It really wasn't a meeting in that sense, more a chance to get caught up on a few things. Turns out I'll be going to London to see him next month for a few days as well."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that isn't the usual relationship between someone like Lord Grantham and a servant, is it?"

"Well, you do become close in a way, but you're right that he and I are different."

"Someday I'd like to know the story behind that."

"It's one that's not just mine to tell."

"You do like your mystery, don't you."

Thomas shrugged and took another drink.

"So how was the rest of your day?"

_Neatly sidestepped, Thomas._ "I went to meet with the builder …"

"The builder?"

"Yes. I'm having the top two floors of the store renovated. Did you not know?"

"No." _Mrs. Purdy, dear, you've failed me._

Thomas reached out for Allan's almost empty glass. "Let me refill that while you tell me."

"I'm planning on living there. Two good-sized bedrooms, bath on the top floor, living area, kitchen and such on the first. The plans have been finalised and he starts early next month."

"Mrs. Purdy won't be happy to lose you."

"And I'll miss her, but she's known since I got here that I'm only short term. Besides it will probably be March before it's ready so she has lots of notice. You know she doesn't need our money, right?"

"Yes, I think she takes in the likes of us in because otherwise she would be at a loss for something to do."

Allan raised his glass again.

"To change."

Thomas thought about George.

"To change. May it lead where we hope."

They both drank, then sat quietly for a moment. As it turned out, it wasn't an awkward silence, more a preparation for things to come.

Thomas decided that if he was going to say something it would be now. His whole idea of arranging for Allan to come tonight was to find out if his suspicions were right. It had been so long since anyone had shown an interest in him that he was still concerned he was courting disaster. But the whiskey had relaxed them both and, while it wasn't perhaps an ideal time, he felt that putting it off in the hope of a better one would be foolish.

"What do you want, Allan? What are you expecting?"

The unanticipated direction that their conversation had taken left Allan momentarily confused.

"I don't understand. You invited me for a drink. Why would I want anything?"

"It's not an accusation; I'm just curious. Do you want to be friends, is that it?"

"Oh, I see. Yes."

"And that's all?"

"Y ... yes. Could there be something else?"

The hesitation and the way he phrased the question gave Thomas his answer. With that, his caution disappeared as he moved to sit beside Allan on the sofa, letting his fingers rest on top of his hand.

"You know there can be if you want."

Allan turned his hand over and interlocked their fingers.

"So I didn't get it wrong then?"

Thomas leant over and kissed him. _Neither did I._ "It appears there's even more change to come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that there are at least a few stories to spin out of this. Thomas's sister's visit. His trip to London. His developing relationship with Allan. Whether or not I'll ever write them is another matter.


End file.
